Being Thrown a Bone
by EllieRose101
Summary: When Spike sets Anya straight on a few things, she decides to help him out (Season Seven: Get it Done).
1. Part One

Part One

Spike rolled his eyes skyward. Anya had been making comments about their brief time together a lot lately, and he didn't think he could take much more if it.

"You're like a dog with a bone!" he exclaimed, utterly fed up with overwrought euphemisms.

"So?" asked Anya, who was obviously frustrated of a different kind.

"So, it's my bone! Point of fact, it's Buffy's… whether she ever uses it again or not."

Anya watched as the annoyance left his expression in time with the words leaving his mouth. By the time he reached the end of the sentence, his shoulders had slumped, and his voice had got real quiet. She wished desperately she still had that amount of power over a man.

"What is it about Buffy that inspires guys to go running after her?"

Spike looked at her, incredulous. Not knowing how to even begin answering the question, he instead deflected it.

"Xander would do the same for you."

"Oh, yeah right! I saw him run when it counted, and it was in the opposite direction!"

Sighing, Spike closed his eyes. All he wanted was a quiet drink away from a house full of teenagers, not get into heavy, uncomfortable conversations.

"Look," he began, giving into the inevitable. "Harris is an idiot. I'd be the first one to tell you that, but it's bloody obvious he loves you. So he made a mistake. I…"

Spike paused to clench his fist before continuing, "God knows I made a worse one. The thing is, you gotta get past it. You love him, he loves you, why don't you just bloody get on with it? Life's short."

Anya stood and silently considered him.

"What?"

"You're over a hundred, and I'm over a thousand," she stated, plainly.

"Yeah. Like I said, life is short."

Anya nodded. It was a strange sentiment, when you thought about it, but that didn't make it any less true.

Without another word, they continued on toward the bar.

Anya continued to think about what Spike said as she watched him sit there, a vacant look in his eye as he savored his Scotch.

"What now?" he asked, after some time; eyes still unfocusedly pointed towards his glass.

Anya only sighed in response.

He set the glass down, and then finally looked at her.

"You're lonely, yeah? Meant what I said. Your boy's right there, waiting for you. Go fix it."

"But it's not simple!" she protested.

"O'course it's bloody not. But you jus' gotta get on with it anyway."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" his voice was flat – devoid of hope.

"Aren't you gonna go after Buffy?"

Spike almost choked at the question.

"No."

She didn't really have to ask why not, but that had never stopped her before.

"But it's stupid," she said. "You give me advice, but you won't take it yourself."

Closing his eyes, Spike shook his head – more at the thought than in answer to the question.

"You're unhappy," Anya told him, to which he allowed himself a small, joyless smile.

"Yeah, pet."

Standing up, she declared the whole thing "infuriating" before stomping away.

Now Spike sighed again, and drained the rest of his drink, before following after her.

* * *

In the house, which Anya had entered well ahead of him, Spike found her stood with Buffy. They both looked up at him as he walked in.

He swore under his breath.

The last thing Buffy needed was for things to be even more awkward between them, but Anya just had to interfere and go and say something.

Deciding to ignore the fact that they'd been talking about him, he offered a quick nod and continued on his way to the basement, only stopping when Buffy called out to him.

"Wait," she said.

He couldn't deny her.

Turning around, he watched Anya leave the room; giving them the illusion of space.

"She told me what you did," Buffy told him, making him raise his eyebrows.

It wasn't quite the opening he expected. But, then, what had he expected? Her to be mad with him or… annoyed? Spike thought that Buffy wouldn't want to hear about his continued feelings for her – not that she ever really had, but especially not now. Maybe she'd ask him to stop. If not stop feeling them then at least stop talking about them. He could do that, he guessed…

"I think you're right," Buffy continued.

Spike frowned. He was fairly certain he'd never been right in his life – not once. He didn't tell her that, though. He didn't say anything.

"She and Xander. It's… complicated. But I think you're right. They should give it another shot." Buffy shrugged, a little, before concluding: "Life is short."

Spike's lips parted, but still no words came. What was she driving at?

Hesitantly, she took a step towards him, and he instinctively shifted so that he was facing her full-on in response.

"Spike," she said, with just the smallest tremor in her voice. "We should talk."

 _To be continued..._


	2. Part Two

Part Two

Anya had walked into Buffy's house determined to do something – she just didn't know what, exactly. Things were bothering her, but she couldn't quite pin down the whys and wherefores.

In some strange way, Buffy and Spike's non-relationship was getting to her more than her own. Yes, that was it. They were her beacon of hope, and they were doing it _wrong_ , damn them! If two people who so obviously belonged together hadn't found a way, then what chance did that leave for everybody else?

More determined than ever, she strode into the kitchen and resolved to tell Buffy just exactly what she thought.

"You're a dope!" she began, making all eyes turn to her.

Buffy blinked, then asked the girls she'd been talking to to give them a moment.

"What's this about, Anya?" she asked, when they were alone in the room.

Anya was pacing and gesticulating wildly with her hands. "You know Spike still loves you, right?"

Buffy's mouth went dry. "Wha-what-" she paused to clear her throat. "Did he say that?"

Anya gave a dismissive wave of her hand paired with an exclamation of "Oh, please!" at which Buffy made them both sit down at the island.

"What did Spike tell you?" she asked, now confident in her question.

"He said Xander and I should just be together," Anya spat, looking back at Buffy expectantly, as if the rest was obvious.

Buffy's brow knit together. Okay… whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. She went to speak, to ask again what _exactly_ was going on, when Anya just barreled straight on through with her side of the conversation.

"It's just ridiculous, y'know?" she didn't pause for Buffy to answer. "He's there, giving advice, and you're around, always giving him moon-eyes, and it's just sickening, frankly."

"I do _not_ make moon-eyes!" Buffy protested, once she was able to pick her jaw up off the floor.

Anya rolled her eyes.

"Look, I don't understand what this is all about and, frankly, I don't have time to-"

"But you _do_ know he still loves you, right?"

There was that question again; the one that all but floored Buffy. If she were honest with herself, she had spent more than one night lying awake, wondering that very thing. Spike was a lot harder to read now, with the soul and… _everything_.

"Well?" Anya pressed.

Buffy sighed. There was clearly no way of avoiding the topic – Anya was like a dog with a bone. "I don't know," she answered, eventually.

"Well _he_ does," stated Anya. "The both of you are such great big hypocrites. Snubbing love then telling the rest of us to go with it. I mean, you're both the strongest and bravest people around, and you're both so scared to reach out it's pathetic!"

Despite the delivery, the compliment Anya had wedged into the middle of her rant really warmed Buffy's bones. Maybe it was a bit crazy, her being a big scaredy-cat. But could she really push her fear aside and just ask Spike how he felt like a normal person? Should she? Obviously there was no point asking Anya for advice, because it was already more than clear where she stood on the matter.

"Do you want to go after Xander?" she asked her instead.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Anya finally answered, "Well, yes."

"Okay," said Buffy, the fear rising up in her already. "Then I've got a deal to offer you."

* * *

 _"We should talk."_ Had Buffy really tried to open with that? She shook her head at her own idiocy. There was no going back on it now; the words had passed her lips, and she had a feeling that if she backed down on her end of the bargain Anya would likely have grounds to fry her ass – literally. _Note to self: don't make promises to a vengeance demon, ex or otherwise._

"Talk?" Spike asked, the word trembling on his lips.

"Uh… yeah." Once more, Buffy awkwardly gestured towards the stools at the island by means of buying herself a few seconds to think, but Spike declined with a shake of his head. _Stupid vampire._

"Look," he said, "I know Anya's probably been at you about, uh…" he swallowed before donning a painful expression at letting the next word pass his lips, " _Us._ But, really, there's no need."

Panic welled up in Buffy worse than before. _No need? No need because why? Because he knows what I was gonna say, and he doesn't want to have to shoot me down? Or because, like Anya said, he's just as scared as I am?_ The only thing Buffy knew for sure was that the only way to find out was to ask.

"I really think there is," she said, gesturing again for him to sit, this time making it clear there was no option in it.

Spike sat but didn't look at her. For all Buffy's supposed strength and bravery, it took every last drop of her self-control to not walk out of the room and just leave him there.

* * *

"A deal?" Anya questioned, her eyes glittering at the prospect.

It was in that moment that Buffy recalled having heard her make business deals at the Magic Box numerous times before. No matter the odds, Anya always came out on top.

"A deal," Buffy affirmed, complete with fresh sense of trepidation. "You tell Xander how you feel, and I'll talk to Spike."

Anya pouted.

"What? Isn't that what you want?"

"As deals go, it's a little sketchy. You're just gonna _talk_ to Spike? What are you gonna say?"

Buffy cursed herself. She should have expected Anya to weed out any potential loopholes.

"I…" she slumped down further on the stool. "I'm not sure."

"Well that's no good!"

"Alright, alright, I know. Just gimmie a second. Let me think. I'm gonna… Oh, I know! I'm gonna tell him…"


	3. Part Three

Part Three

Once more, Anya was looking at Buffy as if she'd gone mad, and it was making the Slayer feel super uncomfortable. It definitely didn't help, a moment later, when Anya actually exclaimed aloud, "What are you? Stupid?"

"Hey!"

"What?"

"The plan wasn't _that_ bad."

"It was awful" Anya reassured her, with a pitying look.

"Didn't you once have the world's lamest idea to drop a piano on Glory?!" Buffy pointed out, at which Anya muttered something unintelligible under her breath, and Buffy's hands went to her hips.

"What was that?"

Anya shook her head. "Nevermind. Just tell Spike the truth. It's simple enough."

"You don't think just telling him that he needs to be all pursue-y again will do the trick?" Buffy questioned. She was _sure_ it would solve things, and it was totally how things should just be. He'd go after her again, and she'd let him; they'd get together, and all would be well. Minimal vulnerability required – well, at least on her part, but Buffy was trying to concentrate on the positives of her plan, not the character flaws she was hiding behind it.

Anya gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. "How would you frame it, exactly? – I want the old you back, _need_ the old you, the one that's dangerous. Spike, I'm asking you to stalk me again?!" she even mocked Buffy's voice as she played out the scenario.

Giving her a death glare, Buffy held up a warning finger, "One: I don't talk like that, and Two: I would never say it like that."

"Then how?"

"I just…" she physically looked around the room for an answer, as if it might leap out at her from behind the toaster, then threw up her hands. "I don't know, okay?! This is hard."

Now Anya was nodding happily. "Yes, good!" she said. "Do that!"

"Huh?"

"Be _honest,_ " she reiterated. "Don't make it into a huge operation that needs plans, and counter plans – keep it simple. Tell him things are hard, and that you don't want them to be anymore."

The furrow in Buffy's brow deepened as she heard the front door open, and felt tinglies at the back of her neck. Anya's suggestion seemed to make sense, but what if she was wrong? She wasn't ready, and he was back, oh god!"

* * *

Forcing herself onto the stool beside Spike, Buffy began pushing around the items on the countertop just to keep her hands busy.

The awkward silence went on for a while, until it was too much, and she let out a near-feral groan.

Spike finally looked up at her, concerned and earnest. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm pissed off, is what I am!"

"Oh."

With no small amount of horror, Buffy belatedly realized what she'd just said, and how it sounded. Acting on impulse, she abandoned the kitchen items, reached for Spike's hand, and just jumped straight in. Simple truth, she could do that. She was a guidance counselor for Pete's sake!

"That came out wrong," she began, following it up with, "I'm not angry with you. So don't go all broody and guilt-ridden, okay? It's just that I hate this. The awkwardness, and the weird mixed signals. It used to be, you'd do all the hard work for me. I never had to guess what you were thinking, because you'd just come right out and say it. There were never silences, then."

"Didn't you used to hate what I had to say?"

"Well, kinda, but you're missing the point!"

"Clue me in then, luv," Spike requested – the old, familiar pet name warming her heart, and giving her the will to carry on.

"I…" she hesitated before repeating a mantra of _'simple and honest, simple and honest'_ over to herself. "What I'm trying to say is that not everything in the past was bad. You've left it all behind, but some those bits were okay. Great, even. Sometimes I even… liked you." She looked away, but not before catching the look on Spike's face.

His lips gave a strange kind of twitch before he asked, "Which bits?"

Buffy blushed. "I didn't mean that. I mean, I didn't _not_ mean that, either, because…" again, she paused before something clicked in her brain. "This is hard, and I don't want it to be hard anymore."

She was looking at Spike expectantly, now, and was pleased to see a light return to his eyes and a leer to his lips at her accidental innuendo.

"Gross, Spike, I wasn't talking about sex!" she chided, while positively beaming at him.

His eyes kind of clouded over.

"What?"

"It's just… you say you don't want mixed signals. Wanna clear the air, yeah? But you say one thing and do a bloody 'nother. If I knew the rules I'd be happy to oblige, but I just can't figure it. You want me to tell you what I think, even when it's something you don't wanna hear? Do you even know what you want, Buffy?"

"You! You! I want you!"


	4. Part Four

Part Four

"You! You! I want you!"

Buffy had stood up and was yelling at Spike before she even felt herself move. Had those words really passed her lips? She decided it was best to make use of the momentum and not stop to question it.

"Yes," she continued, affirming herself to his incredulous eyes. "I _do_ want you to talk to me, to tell me stuff I don't wanna hear. I want the stupid jokes, and the awful language. I want _you_. All of it!"

Spike blinked, his mouth agape. She expected him to just reach over, take hold of her, and kiss her hard – making everything okay again – but he just sat there, and the longer he sat, the more Buffy regretted her words. Anya must have been wrong, she thought. _He doesn't love me anymore. He doesn't love me at all!_

The Slayer was thinking of possible ways to backtrack out of what she said when he squeezed her hand, making her look down at where they were joined. She'd actually forgotten she was still holding his.

"Buffy," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea what that means to me. How long I…" using his free hand, he tilted her face back towards his, then asked, "Do you mean it?"

She nodded, a traitorous tear escaping down her cheek. Still he didn't kiss her. Why wasn't he kissing her?!

He looked away. "You shouldn't want me, Buffy. I'm not a good man."

"But you _are_ a man. I watched you become one, and I… I- goddamn it, Spike, I love you!"

"No," he said, his tone cold. "You can't, surely."

"But I do!" Buffy insisted, more tears falling. He had to understand, because if he didn't then this was it, the end of everything.

"Buffy," he said again.

"No, listen. Tara didn't know she was gonna die, but she got to spend her last day with Willow. We _have_ got a heads up on the end of the world, and we're wasting it. Anya was right to be angry."

"We're not gonna die," he told her. Again, it had not been the response she had been expecting, and it threw her a little. This was totally not how she saw her evening going at all. Regardless, she tried to lead the conversation back on track.

"You don't know that for sure," she said. "That's the kinda my point."

"I know _you_ ," Spike maintained, but was cut off from the rest of his pep talk by Buffy raising her hand.

"No, no, that's not the point!"

"But you said-"

"Forget what I said! I'm trying to say something here!" Heart beating furiously, and head beyond flustered, Buffy looked at a very confused Spike with panic before they both burst out into laughter.

"Anyone ever tell you, you got a way with words, Summers?"

"Oh, yeah," Buffy retorted, "You bet."

They both took a much-needed breath and then she tried again – calmly, this time.

"I'm sorry for acting all crazy, and not making any sense, but I guess I'd been waiting for the right time. For when we had a moment, and there wasn't a war on." She shook her head. "I should have known better."

"'m not worth the effort," Spike muttered under his breath.

Okay, now she was mad at him. "Will you stop that? I meant life doesn't wait around, waiting for you to be ready. You just have to jump in."

There was a long pause, then:

"Life is short," Spike intoned, before finally – mercifully – kissing the Slayer deeply.

* * *

The next time Anya and Xander were at Buffy's house – together, she'd noticed – he'd asked to have a quiet word with Spike. Buffy had been hesitant about allowing it but, really, what could she do?

"Just don't break anything!" she'd called after them, as they headed for the kitchen, hoping her half-joke would help ease any potential tension.

And what was with her kitchen being a place for heavy conversations all of a sudden, anyway? Looking around at the room chock-full of teenagers, Buffy retracted her conversation from her own mental notepad and spoke to Anya, instead.

"You followed through then?"

"Yes," Anya beamed. "And you?"

Buffy nodded. "Looks like it all worked out." She couldn't help but smile and be thankful – probably for the first time ever – for Anya's forthright attitude and need to take life by both hands, squeezing it until it yielded to her will.

* * *

"I know I don't like you," Xander began, once the kitchen door had shut behind Spike. "And that's probably not gonna change anytime soon, but… thanks, I guess. If Buffy can forgive you, then it's not really my place to hold that grudge for her."

"Appreciated, mate," said Spike, earnestly.

"So, what's with you too, anyway? Anya's been saying you might be trying things out again?"

"We…" Spike began, not really knowing how to finish. "We're definitely trying," he decided, finally. "Not really at a stage for labels or high hopes, but… yeah, trying."

Xander snorted, causing Spike to give him a curious look.

"Please!" he exclaimed, "No high hopes? Who are you kidding?"

Spike cracked a guilty smile. "No one, apparently."

Xander smiled back, if not a little awkwardly. "Well…" he started, gesturing towards the door. Spike gave him a nod, indicating it was fine to now abandon the conversation. He was more than pleased with how it went, and almost proud of Xander for seemingly becoming perceptive of late. One thing the vampire vowed to himself, was to try and play nicer with Buffy's mates, because if Anya was anything to go by, they could be downright essential to both their continued happiness.


End file.
